The Writings

Sometimes it feels like we’re doing this shit on our own.And it’s hard.

I can’t even begin to enumerate how many times I’ve wanted a wise, all-knowing magic grandmother to call up, visit, lay my head in her lap, and have her show me all the magic ways and tell me all the magic things.

I just don’t have that. Many of us don’t.

And while some of us do, which is dope beyond measure, I think a lot of young adults are yearning for more elders in their lives. I recognize that “elders” means a lot of things to a lot of different people, and in this specific context I’m providing, elders refers to those who have lived, who have loved, who have failed, and who survived to tell the tales of what not to do. I, for one, love an elder who has made a ton of mistakes, and is more than willing to impart those lessons learned (no matter how long-winded those lessons may be…)

A lot of us fledgling witches/brujas, healers/curanderas, and general magic folk, are steady on the lookout for elders within the magic communities who we can learn from.

We’re living in unprecedented times, with our own set of unique circumstances that our grandparents do not fully fathom. New times call for new methods, new rituals, and new ceremonies to stay sane.

I think most of us can agree that capitalism is evil. If you disagree, then this blog probably isn’t for you, lol. I say all of that in jest and yet, it’s so real, it hurts.

Capitalism cares about what you produce for the profit of a few. You are only as good as the amount of money you can make someone else… More often than not, your passion is separated from your work, and the demands of keeping up with nonsensical numerical demands just to exist on this planet, is … insanity. We are literally insane to accept such an arbitrary system as a means of living.

For some of us, magic, ritual, ceremony, and communion literally keeps us breathing.For some of us, without bowing down to the magic in our lives, we are not living our truth.For some of us, if we ignore the demands of our path that require deep ritualistic work, it can lead to our destruction, our demise, our sickness, our sadness, our pain, our weariness, and even our deaths.For some of us, without this work, we are surely dead.

And death can take many different forms.

We are the healers of today, healing ourselves from constant, daily trauma.The condensed modern cities just magnify, and amplify, all the collective pain we feel.

Funny how we as people of color have stigmatized working with the land (because we were brutally exploited with it), and now we are estranged from the very thing that can heal us.

Our medicine looks different because of these cities.Because of these capitalistic structures//These divisive paradigms//The -isms that make white supremacist patriarchy go round...

Our medicine looks different because of the way we’ve set up tribe in the “modern” cityIsolated, separate//Having to literally pay for existing, pay for your time, living in a box, driving a box, eating out of boxes//Having to pay to have your children being cared for while you go off to earn your right to exist...

Our medicine looks different because our elders are “put away” and disregarded.We treat children as though they have nothing valuable to say, add, or contribute to society with their ideas, thoughts, and dreams.

Our medicine looks different in this day and age,Because we are addressing the needs of now, and we will continue to do so, continue to adapt, change, and mold, into whatever Spirit calls for.

The Source is ALWAYS the same. And will always be.

It is the ritual, the ceremony, the talismans, the relics, the practices, the rhetoric, the language, the nuances and the entry points that change.

How do we remain clear channels for the medicine we carry, to maximize our highest potentials for good?

We must support each other through these thick, shifting landscapes…

Listen. Breathe. Move and love your spine, every single day. Drink hella water. And trust that the medicine you carry is everything you are already looking for. It is everything you need.

Science Fiction.A genre I used to shy away from entirely, mainly because of the crowd it attracted, and my inability to connect to it. Being able to connect to any given book/genre/style, has everything to do with being able to SEE yourself in it. If I can't see myself in it, then why bother? This may not be the case every time, but it has a lot to do with being able to retain my interests.

As of late, I've been completely enamored and enchanted by the realms of science fiction. I've already developed and established a relationship with magical realism, and once I learned that Octavia Butler is considered a part of the realm of science fiction, then I realized that perhaps I am a part of this genre too.

I am completely here for Octavia Butler and all she represents in the literary, and imaginative world.

What I love most about science fiction, is its ability to reimagine society as it currently stands, and expound upon the possibilities. Science fiction is about the melding of past, present, and future, however the architect sees fit.

We need science fiction in our movements. That power to reimagine society.

We need magical realism in our psyches. Infusing that magic, that 5th element, that etheric matter into our realities, stating it as fact and not as an anomaly, acknowledging the sacred element... this is what will take us further into the future. This is what will propel us deep into a collective consciousness rooted in community, respect, and aligned with the deepest truths of ourselves as humans, and spirit entities.

Without the magic, we are, quite literally, dust.

Dust that will fade away into the backdrops of the universe without so much as a whisper of our memory. In many ways we deserve that obscurity, and that future is quite possible and potentially inevitable anyway... but perhaps...

Perhaps we will have a legacy as humans.Perhaps we can leave behind something beyond our capacity to destroy.Perhaps we can actually build something worthy of our ancestry.Perhaps we can actually contribute something of value to the ecosystems that surround us.Perhaps we can sustain life and interact with other species in a symbiotic way.

Because, why not?

Yes, we humans are collectively psychotic in more ways than we can possibly count.

But the best of us are brilliant.The best of us are loving.

How do we get the most disenfranchised of us all to a point where they are able to contribute their gifts to us, to help propel us in this direction?

How do we take the gifts and legacies that indigenous peoples and "poor" peoples are already leaving behind, and disseminate them for the next seven generations?

In what ways do the arts play a role in that dissemination?!

People who have access to the internet and social media, are now publishers.We are all publishers in our own right, to whatever degree our respective "governments" will allow...

Artists are documenting. Encapsulating. Living, breathing time capsules of what is being impressed upon us. We are our own snapshots of the stars. We are a reflection of the times. We are mirrored images of every orbiting organism that surrounds us. We are microcosms of the universe.

We are microcosms of the universe.I don't think you fully understand the infinitesimal reality of that statement.Microcosmic. And yet we collectively embody everything that exists in the universe.The beauty, the rage, the violence, the life, the death, the rebirth, the heat, the frigid, the depths, the superficiality, the brilliance, the untruths, the energetics…

So let’s use it.

We need imagination.Dreamers. Conjurers. Architects.

I am utterly bored of anyone/anything who exists without an imagination. And some of us are dying because of it. Families being strangled by capitalism,People traumatized in our prisons because we can’t imagine a society without the prison industrial complex,People house-less, living on the streets, because we can’t possibly “imagine” a better way to manage city budgets to help people have dignified housing. The list goes on, infinitely.

So.Read more sci-fi. Read more magical realism. Play with more kids. Squeeze more babies. Get your head out of the sand and start dreaming. Surround yourself with imaginative people, because that shit’s contagious. And soon you’ll start dreaming too… dreaming of new ways of existing...expressing yourself...raising your kids...treating other people...living your fullest life...

the way that darkest night reveals stars,the way that birds know there is freedom beyond bars,

We are familiarBecause Body knows Universal Law

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.EQUAL. And OPPOSITE.this is law.

Universal law knows no bias.It exists whether anyone watches or not,whether anyone is there to commiserate about whether or not Force A deserved what Force B did to it upon interaction when forces collide-

These Universal Laws know no bias.

They only exist.

And play out in the tragic comedies we produce.We laugh until we cry, We cry until we laugh,Sometimes we laugh to keep from crying, and cry to keep ourselves from joy…

Sometimes that contrary motion is seamless…like the tears that slowly roll after a triumph,knowing how long the journey and how much blood was shed to get here…

that triumph over pain,those deep wells of grief,now the oceans of joy.

Sometimes...that contrary motion is seamless…like two loverspropelled by fate,drifting by one anotherlong enough to caress,before careening back into the tumbles of separate paths,with only a memory of skinto tell the tales of friction and force

Force UnbiasedUnmovedUnpredictableForce

Seamless.Sexy…

Sometimes that contrary motion is seamless.And other times…

As “progress” is made,A force unravels in the back.As Beings stand for their humanity,Force is geared for the attack…Humans having no compassion,if the skin happens to be Black,

Contrary motion Can be painful.

When Black & Brown MovementsCollide with white power structuresthe force is the sameEqual ForceCollidesAnd if you happen to be positedin a place where you only see one side moving…then I suppose it’s hard for you to believe there are two forces at play,because forces always come in pairs

Moving like chordsMirrored like stairs,

For the topics that you don’t think matter,there is always someone that cares,

For the lives that capital says are not worthy,there is an alternate reality that embraces those who DareDream it into existence.

Mirrored chords

Like Memories

Sing Deep

Like Memories

Mirrored chords

ChallengedWhen force movesswiftlyWho is contrary motion?

Just because you cannot see it,the Moon still pulls the tides of the OceanLaws of the Highest Order

What is it that you cannot see?What veils you, as Force A, from seeing, Force B?

Who says that although there is Death,There cannot also be Dream?

Gravity must also implya lightness of being

Shrouded in darkness Yet gifted with the art of seeing,Blind Prophets.

Ties us. Blood Rituals, tether us infinitely. Beyond generations, beyond time, beyond space. There’s a reason that stories written by Black and Brown Women resonate throughout time to all of their daughters. Timelessness of trauma to our bodies, our vessels, our souls, our spirits. Resilience marks us, like an infinitely healing wound, a long scar, we all share. We do our best to heal a piece of it. Our piece.

“My god, these wounds run deep,” we all say. We try and look at the caverns of the wound. The deep rushing waters that have all the power & fury to carry us under. How deep does it go? It is no surprise that some of us women stand on opposite sides of the river bank. Both of us looking at the wound, but neither of us fully knowing how to reach out and touch one another.

We share pain. We share tragedy. We are so, so good at it. It’s the oldest story of our Bones. It is often the first story we learn. Sucking the narrative right out of our mother’s breast. Nourishing milk of many stories, of Survival, Triumph, Beauty, Joy, and Pain.